Survivors
by MarcoDelMarco
Summary: The world around them is dead. They each think that they are alone. But soon these 4 will find that they have not been completly left 4 dead. My own ideas for survivor character, I hope you like them.


(On a whim I decided to make my own set of Left 4 Dead Zpoc survivors. Although I suppose this could apply to any zombie apocalypse really. I like them, and I may do a story with them, or just leave it to yours and my imaginations. Well, in any case I hope you enjoy this little tid bit. And before anyone ask, no, this has nothing to do with Witch Hazel.)

**Hatchet Molly**

Blood…it splatters my face, my arms. It's in my hair in lumps, but it's the same color as these Irish locks so it blends oh so well. These…things, they aren't human anymore. They aren't people! So…this isn't murder. I'm doing them a favor. Twin hatchets clutched tightly in my hands slash these unfortunate creatures, my fingers fitting perfectly into the groves in the hard wooden handles that have been formed by much use. They feel like extensions of my arms now.

How long has it been? I remember…CEDA first had reports of "incidents" about two weeks ago. Then it spread like wild fire, burning away every trace of humanity. Now only the smoldering embers and filthy ash remains. They just keep coming, poor dumb beast. The infection has made their flesh squishy and their bones brittle.

Rip, slash, chop.

They let out small cries as they fall, a last murmur of defeat. They won't be going quietly into that good night, so I'll just have to keep helping them along their way. I recognize some of the monsters as they climb up my water tower. Just before my hatchet splits their skull I get a glimpse of who they were. There's Mrs. Johnson from the market, she was so worried about her upcoming surgery…well, that's one worry she can put to bed now. Oh, there's my mail man! I never bothered to learn his name, not that it matters now. So many faces…so many lives…..

Only a few left now. Good. I'm strong, but I'm no superhero. I'm getting tired….Chop! Slash! Rip…and there goes the last. Now I'm alone. Nobody but Hatchet Molly up on her tower. I'll run out of food soon, only a day's or so worth left. Where will I go when I run out? CEDA's nearest evacuation center is miles away, and I very much doubt it is still up and running. I've seen enough of their people in their hazmat suits to know how competent they are. So….where?

It's funny, only a few days ago I was using these very tools to chop bits of wood to make "artisan" chairs and tables. Heh, I suppose carpentry was the right career for me after all wasn't it? I've made beautiful things, lovely works of art that brighten up any room they sit in. Now look at me. Covered in blood on top of a damn water tower with nothing and nobody.

Well Mol, what now?

**Lovely Lisa**

They called my "Lovely Lisa", "Beautiful Miss. Chang", "This year's up and coming young model." Now I'm just a girl with a shot gun, surrounded by zombies. Why did we have to come out here to the middle of nowhere? For "rural" pics? Sure, blue jean ads look better with hay and barns in them, but that was before my crew turned into monsters who tried to eat my pretty face! Damn.

I'm just lucky they used a real gun in the photo shoot and not just some cheesy prop. The idiots even left the thing loaded. Super lucky for me, but really quite careless on their part. I could have killed someone…well, someone who wasn't a zombie. Just count your blessings Lisa, just count your blessings. (can count them on one hand)

I wonder how long I can stay hidden in this house? I've killed all of those things in the nearby area, kind of had to because of the whole they-want-to-eat-me thing. Who ever lived here had a lot of canned food (my dietitian would kill me faster than the monster if he saw what I was eating), but my supply is starting to run low. I know…I know I'll have to go out there soon. I remember driving to the shoot we passed one of those, what are they called….safe houses! Yeah, those things the government installed everywhere back when this first started. I thought that was so silly. Well, I'm not too proud to admit when I'm wrong.

I wonder if anyone else in this little piss poor town survived. Surely I can't be the only one. I've never even held a gun before a few days ago! These backwoods people must be able shoot. God I wish there was some booze in this house…if ever they was a time for a drink it's now.

I've seen some of them running east, kind of towards that rusty old water tower. I wonder what they saw? Well, as soon as I'm out of chow I guess I'll go find out. What's the worst that can happen? Killed by zombies.

Well, it's not like I'm swimming in alternatives. Lovely Lisa, your options are severely limited. Guess it's good I did all those years of Tea Bo, yoga, and early morning runs. I just wanted to stay in good enough shape to keep my body picture perfect, never thought I'd need to use them to fight zombie hordes. Well, everyday is a surprise.

**Officer Anderson**

Officer Anderson, last living member of the town police squad, reporting for duty. Man, that is sad. The last one of those things in the station, and it's the chief. Poor guy, he was always cool to me. Didn't give me the late night patrols, never road me for bending regulations, and now look at him. Well, I'll try to make it quick. It still amazes me how they die so easily with a well placed baton blow. These clubs were designed the not kill a person with a single blow, but then again these aren't people any more. They….they're monsters.

I'm safe here in the station for now. I've got a little food and water, enough to last, but still…I can't stay cooped up here much longer. I NEED to go outside, I need to know! What's happened to my little town? Every so often I hear one of those things scream, like it's found a new victim, and I've heard some gunshots in the distance as well. There has to be someone else out there, someone else who survived. I only hope I can find them…when I work up the guts to leave.

It's so ironic, me sleeping a cell for protection. I don't lock it of course, those beast don't know how to open doors anymore, but still…it makes me almost feel like a criminal. Maybe it's survivor guilt? Why did I live when so many others, so many other good people did not? It seems unfair…Well, no sense bellyaching about it now. Those "good people" are zombies (can't believe I said that) now, can't let my sympathies cloud my judgment.

I just need to gather some supplies. An adrenaline shot that we keep incase a druggie OD's in their cell, pistols, a police baton to save ammo, and a bullet proof vest. I know they can't shoot, but don't want to catch friendly fire just in case I do meet someone. That would be such an awkward way for us to get acquainted. Oh, that reminds me, better grab a first aid kit. Come night fall, Officer Anderson's going on patrol one last time.

**Father Hec**

All of my parish turned into zombies, not really the way I wanted my career as a priest to start. I only got two Sundays under my belt in this little town before my flock turned into ravenous wolfs. It was enough time for them to give me that nickname though, Father Hec. Apparently Farther Hector sounded too proper for a man my age. Well, I suppose being in my mid twenties has its advantages. I'm young and strong, and just because I am a man of peace does not mean I'm going to lay down and die.

The bell tower gives me such a beautiful view of the town, if it wasn't for all the zombies the scene would be quite breath taking. I can see the wheat fields in the distance, the wooded mountain and to the west. There just aren't many places like this anymore, well…I suppose now there aren't any. Real shame, I was beginning to like it here. Now this little berg is a holy shit pile.

I just thank god that my preceding priest had a liking for baseball and kept a bat in his office. He was a man of the cloth on Sunday and a Sox fan on the rest of the week. I never really cared for the game myself, but I've learned how to use this bat pretty darn well. I'm glad I used this first and not holy water like Sister Montoya. Poor woman, may she rest in peace. It's really too bad, I could use her help right about now. The lord may give me strength, but he doesn't give me any backup to fight zombies. I only hope someone else was spared besides me…I can't do this on my own.

I've been blessed to be alive, and I know the lord doesn't us more than we can handle, but still…this is a bit much. Tomorrow's Sunday. I think I'll leave then, maybe try to reach that Safe room those men from CEDA installed down town. Maybe there's a radio or something there, or at least some food. I've been surviving off communion wafers and holy water, and even though it warms my soul, the body of Christ does not do much to fill me up. I need some real food, and soon. Tomorrow I'll say a mass, for me, for the dead, and for those things defiling my town, and then…Father Hec is going to leave this tower, and send those demons back to Hell.


End file.
